The Missing Piece

I'm searching and I'm searching,
For something somewhere at some place,
What it is? Or who is it I don't know?
I flick through my phone,
My chats, my playlist,
I have a little laugh here and there.

But when the day is fast spent,
I know in my heart something is missing,
What is it and who is it I don't know,
All I know is I need that something
Or someone.

I need some meaning in my life,
Some purpose to my days,
A feel of real love & not fake lust,
That leaves me in the dust,
Making me feel dirty and unworthy,
For Sunday church.

I am lost,
And unlike the prodigal son,
I just can't bring myself to go home,
If only home could come to me,
Oh preacher I hope today!
You won't tell me my own sins,
For I forget them not.

Preacher tell me Home already came to me,
Tell me God came as man,
And Died as man,
For man,
That he died to fill that "emptiness".
Just tell me that Jesus loves me
Because the best thing one can give to another is Love and that's the good news
That God loves us so much.
Copyright@T.Davies

Prodigal Son

If winter and summer
and spring were to fall,
And Heaven and Hell
were to Descend and ascend,
would love remain?

Isn't love convenient only?

Confused and broken,
fading from reality,
Even my sleep offers no comfort,
seeking redemption;
Yet alienated from it.

For can I be saved?

I have lost faith,
in that which i believe;
Right and wrong are strangers to me,
my motion are absent emotions.

Shall I ever be found?

Yet deep deep down,
I'm screaming for salvation!
But like a stubborn child tho,
I keep threading the path of rebellion,
and yet the Father is ever forgiving,
Oh foolish I am!
To stray from his embrace
and his ever loving grace.

How far is home from here?

Yet the space I created when I rebelled,
grace as closed at a pace of amazement,
as though I never left.
I remain the Father's ace,
and this race ain't about the swift,
It's about His amazing grace,
So don't panic if you're weak;
For you can find strength IN HIM.
Copyright@T.Davies